A Change in the Wind
by Banshi13
Summary: Don't look ovah theah, look at me! He forced her eyes back to him by a quick tug of her chin with his hand. What would ya do?
1. Chapter 1

As always in Brooklyn, New York, it was a beautiful night. The cool autumn breeze was whistling through the trees, providing a rather chilly, but still comforting and welcome wind across the water near the Brooklyn newsies lodging house. Inside the lights were on, and it was apparent that a fun time was being had. Poker was being played on every available bit of floor space, bets were placed on who would win hands, and the smell of cigars and cigarettes wafted out from the open windows and door of the warehouse. Many of the newsies were coming and going, some play fighting out near the docks, others having heated conversations about when the next fight with Bronx was going to be.

Instead of taking part of all the activities, there was one newsie that was content to sit on a dock post, legs dangling freely in the breeze, hair hanging loose from the normal newsie cap that she wore every day. On any normal night, Maddy would be inside with the rest of the boys, gambling her money away with the best of them. But not tonight. This night, the only semblance that she was there was the lit cigarette in her hand, off of which she was taking light puffs. Her blonde hair billowed in the wind, and cool sea green eyes watched the waves of the bay as the crashed against the dock. The air was muggy, loaded with water and heat. There would be a storm soon, more than likely. However, it would be nothing compared with the storm that would come later on that night.

Brock, the leader of Bronx, had decided to call a meeting with Brooklyn, their heated rival. Of course, Spot Conlon, leader of the infamous Brooklyn newsies was immediately on his guard as he took the piece of paper from the Bronx messenger. He would oblige Bronx, he ultimately decided, but it would not be without the proper protection. 15 of Brooklyn's best would be traveling along with Spot, just to ensure that Brock didn't try to pull a fast one and jump Conlon. Maddy didn't have a problem admitting up front that she didn't think it was a good idea to meet with Bronx, but in the end, when the vote had been taken, it was agreed that the meeting would take place. Before hand, a night of fun and games would be had. Smoking, gambling, and drinking would take place, not to mention some play fighting in the spirit of practice against a possible real fight later on.

So, taking place was the fun and games right now. Maddy didn't have the stomach for it though. Ordinarily, possibly. Right now, no. Her nerves were much to jumbled about the meeting to think on anything else. She wondered what Brock would say, of what he could possibly bring to the meeting. She hated Bronx's leader with all her heart. He was a hard type, and a bully, to not only the other borough members, but to his own boys as well. His temper was nearly legendary around New York; every newsie knew it wasn't a smart move to piss him off. And his attitude towards the female population left much to be desired. Brock believed a girl had two purposes, the first of which was to be barefoot, pregnant, and making dinner in the kitchen. The second of which, to do whatever he told her to do. For some reason, the girls in the Bronx loved him, loved everything about him.

Every time Maddy saw him, she wanted to throw up on his shoes.

"Hey."

"Holy shi-!" The girl nearly fell off her comfortable perch of the post at the unexpected, hard Brooklyn voice. Her feet hit the deck, her hair tumbled in front of her face, and she landed on her backside with a hard and painful thump. When she managed to get her bearings and brush her hair back from her face, she was greeted by none other than Spot Conlon, shaking his head, his fingers hooked into his suspenders. A smirk plastered his face as he just watched her.

"Thank you evah so much, Spot," Maddy grumbled, scraping herself up off the dock and looking around, brushing herself off, "I now have about ten splintah's in my butt."

"Not'a problem," Spot gave a slight bow and walked over, casually checking to ensure that she was injured no further than having a few splinters, "whatt'ya doin' out heah by ya'self?"

"Nuthin' much...just watchin' da waves and stuff like that." Since her first cigarette had been lost in her butt to dock collision, she fished another out of her pants pocket along with a match and lit it. "Waitin' n' thinkin' is all." Wary of the dock post now, she settled for sitting on the edge and leaning her back against the wood. Spot took up position at the next post over and remained standing. "Waitin' n' thinkin' about what?"

She blue some smoke out, her gaze still out over the water. "Waitin' ta go ta the meetin', n' thinkin' about what's gonna happen once we get theah." She heard Conlon shift against the post slighty just as a particularly harsh gust of wind fell upon the warf, causing her to shiver slightly. "Gonna be a storm tanight," she predicted, gazing off into the dark horizon.

"Yea...about dat meetin' wit Bronx tanight," Spot spoke after a couple moments of silence, and effectively brought Maddy back to reality. "What about it?" she answered, putting her ciggie out and bringing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

"Ya not goin'."

What? Maddy nearly asked him to repeat himself. What did he mean, 'she wasn't going'? She had every right to go! She said as much to Spot, confusion and anger most evident within her voice.

It wasn't as if Spot wasn't expecting this. Before, Maddy would do pretty much just as she pleased, and Spot didn't have a problem with it. The girl knew her limits, and knew them well. She knew what she could and could not do, and she knew when to cross certain lines and when to steer clear of others. All in all, Spot was most certain that Maddy was one of the smarter newsies he'd ever known. But he still could let her go with him and the other boys tonight. There was just no way.

"I needs you ta stay here, watch the place," he answered, crossing his feet at the ankles and also his arms at the chest, "I'm takin' my four tops and ten'a my othah boys. You're gonna stay heah an' make sure dat things don't get outta hand on this side'a town."

"Okay, numbah one ya got 50 othah boys in theah dat can watch the place. Numbah two, wadda'ya thinks gonna happen? Ya think the lodgin' house is gonna catch on fiah or somethin'?" The girl stood up, wiping her hair out of her face and taking a couple of steps forward, regarding him. "Ya've nevah asked me ta stay behind before Spot. Did I do somethin' wrong? Somethin' dat makes ya think ya can't trust me anymore?"

"No, you didn't do anything, Maddy, I just...want ya ta stay heah tanight." Conlon looked back at her, staying out of the range of light from the lodging house. Not that there was much light to give on his side. Where Maddy was sitting, he could see her face perfectly. It was a picture of utter disbelief and anger. He was expecting that. When she finally sighed and shook her head, plopping to the ground, her feet hanging over the edge of the dock, he uncrossed his arms and plucked his pants pockets with his fingers. There was a rather uncomfortable silence between the two of them for a while, something that they were both unaccustomed too. Never before had they had to deal with not talking to each other for one reason or another. Spot shook his head. Ah, the irony of caring for someone...upsetting them to ensure their safety.

"When are ya leavin'?"

Spot shrugged. "Brock said he wanted ta start around 10:00pm. It's about 8:00pm now...I guess in about an hou'ah or so. Get theah, look around the place, make sure he don't pull any fast ones." He saw her nod, but she didn't bother to voice any concerns or other questions she may have had. Spot was starting to feel slightly guilty. Just slightly. He wasn't used to people having problems with his decisions...well, to be fair, he wasn't used to Maddy having problems with his decisions. She was usually behind him on everything he did or decided on. Ordinarily, her behavior wouldn't affect him the way it was now, but in a way, he felt he owed her more of an explanation than what he gave her. Because there was one, there was no doubt about that. He'd just never been put in a position to explain himself before, much less to Maddy. There were so many things running through his thoughts right now, most of them feelings that he didn't know how to express, much less understand. He just knew he felt them. He also knew she felt them too.

"Look uhm..." he settled himself beside her, a respectful distance, about a foot, and allowed his feet to dangle over the edge of the dock as well, his hands in his lap. He tried to find the words that he wanted to use, but he just didn't know how to put out what he wanted to say. He'd never had to before. For her part, Maddy didn't bother to prod or push him. She simply waited for him to get out whatever it was that he wanted to say to her. It was obviously difficult for him, considering when Spot wanted to say something, it was usually out and done within 30 seconds, no questions to be asked.

"I don't wanna hav'ta worry about you...when I'm tolkin' ta Brock." He finally admitted, looking out over the bay, the warf, the surrounding buildings. Anywhere but Maddy. Because he knew how she would take that, even though she should know better than to take it as an insult. But none the less...

"You don't wanna hav'ta worry about me?" she repeated, turning her head ever so slightly to look at Conlon. "You know what I mean, Maddy," he replied quietly, calmly, not letting his words take an offensive tone. He'd gone through enough negotiations with the different Newsie burroughs around New York to know how to speak to people when trying to prove a point or get something he wanted. "No, I really don't, Spot. Ya nevah used'ta worry about me before. As I remembah, ya were more than willin' ta put me as a scout, or have me on da ground if ya needed me in'a fight." The wind was blowing more forcefully now and she moved more of her hair back underneath her shirt in frustration.

"Things were different then," was Spots only answer. Because it was the truth. Things were different between them. It was only just recently that the attitude they'd taken towards each other had changed. Now, there was more witty banter, more smiles, more glances and stares than before, more caution on both sides on how they would speak and what they would say to each other. "An' you think they're different now because..." Maddy made a few gestures with her hands, trying to get the sentance out that she wanted, "I dunno, because we may have somethin' a little more than friendship now?"

"Yea."

"Yea?" A chuckle released itself from Maddy's mouth. "Look, Spot...I-I dunno how ta handle dis any bettah than you do, okay? But...if ya gonna start treatin' me like a helpless little goil heah, then-"

"No, dat's not what I'm doin, Maddy-"

"Then what _ar'_ya doin'? Cause dats what it seems like ta me."

"When I go ta dat meetin' tanight, I gotta have my brain woikin' right, okay? I don't trust Brock at all, an' I wouldn't put it past him ta make a few snide comments ta you just ta get ya tempah goin'. An' you know he'll do dat, an' you an' I both know dat if he does, you'll go off! Jus' like ya always do!"

"I don' always go off," she grumbled. Even as she spoke the words, she knew she was lying. Any chance she got to take a swing at Brock she took.

"But dat ain't what botha's me the most," he plunged on, "I ain't nevah been afraid ta do somethin' before, an' you know it. What botha's me the most is now I am, an' it's cause a' you." He got up, running a hand through is wavy dirty blonde hair, letting out some air as he did so. Maddy remained sitting on the wood, and although he couldn't see it, there was a very stunned expression on her face. "It's me? It's my fault, how is dis my fault?"

"It ain't about fault, Maddy," he turned to the side, looking down at her looking up at him. "Dis ain't about fault at all. Foh the foist time in my life, I'm actually afraid'a somethin' happenin' ta you. I don't wanna have ta constantly be watchin' out foh you and not be able ta do my job."

"You don't _have_ ta watch out foh me, Spot, I can take care of myself!" She now rose from the dock, standing parallel to Spot, almost squaring off with him.

"That's not the point, Maddy! I knows you can take care'a'ya self, I knows dat! But it's the mere thought'a me loosin' my cool because dat asshole Brock or somebody else foh dat matter, decides ta give you trouble dat gets me. I know foh a fact dat now, if somebody messed wit'cho, I wouldn't give ya the chance ta punch 'em. Know why? I'd already be down on the ground with the piece'a shit myself beatin' the crap outta' dem! So, let's see what happens then..." he started to pace, his hands on his hips, looking back and forth from Maddy towards the lodging house where the party was still going on. "Aftah me beatin' the scabbah to a bloody pulp, my boys comes ta me an'a ya wanna know what they say? They say, 'eh' Spot, ya need ta back off a bit, all of us out there just got inta a fight, and some'a us landed in the refuge foh the night!'"

All the while, Maddy watched him, her head and eyes following every movement that he made. "Don't'cha think ya goin' a little ovah board theah?" she wondered aloud. The boy before her stopped in his tracks. "No, I don't," he growled, walking up to her. Spot was five foot, three inches, Maddy stood at an even five feet. There was only a three inch difference between them, but at the moment, had anyone walked by and saw the two, it would have seemed like Spot was towering over Maddy. It was that kind of presence that had brought him the power of Brooklyn those years ago.

"Put ya self in my shoes, Maddy," he said after a short silence as he collected himself. He didn't back away from her. He needed to be as close to her as possible, or the desired point that he was trying to make would not get through to her. "You're the one that's goin' ta the meetin' tanight, an' I'm goin' wit'cho. Brocks theah, wit his boys, an' the minute we step inta dat meetin' space, all his boys jump us. Every last one a them. Now, they ain't made'a move ta fight us yet, but they will, if we don't hand Brooklyn ovah ta them right then and there. You, a'course, say fohget it. An' then, those real big line-backah Bronx boys, dey get they'ah hands on me, an' they drag me out in front'a you and they say, 'okay, you don' wanna give us Brooklyn? We'll beat the hell outta him until ya say yes! An' ya can't get ta me, because you's got all dis Bronx boys cornerin' ya..." He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatt'ya gonna do?" Maddy looked away from him, but he forced her back to him by a quick tug of her chin with his hand.

"Don't look ovah theah, look at _me_." His normally cold blue eyes were now aflame with a fire and passion that Maddy had never seen before, and would hopefully never see again. It almost frightened her. "What would ya do?" he asked quietly, waiting patiently for her answer.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She couldn't answer. She wanted to tell him that she'd never give Brooklyn up, that she knew Spot would rather be handicapped the rest of his life than give Bronx his home and territory. But she also knew that she'd never be able to forgive herself if she chose to save Brooklyn rather than the leader of Brooklyn.

Spot read her mind with ease. "Exactly." He released her chin, and instead rested his nimble fingers on her shoulders. "I don't wanna have ta make dat decision. I don't wanna have to choose between what's best foh Brooklyn and what's best foh you. An' yea, in a way, ya right. I _am_ treatin' ya like the helpless little goil. But I know ya not. An' so does the rest of Brooklyn, hell, all a New York knows that if theah's one thing ya not, it's helpless. But I wanna protect ya...I dunno how ta do dat if Every time we go out ta do business, I'm worryin' about whethah'a not ya gonna get inta a scrape that you can't dig ya way out of." His hands slid off her shoulders.

"I dunno how ta say it any bettah than dat."

Maddy swallowed, allowing herself to look down at the dock. Eventually, she looked back up at him. His facial features had changed dramatically from just a few seconds earlier. He seemed more thoughtful, a lot calmer, and his eyes at returned to their normal snowy blue. In them, she could have sworn that she saw glimmer of hope for her understanding, but it was gone so quickly, it could have been nothing more than one of his many looks. "Ya said it good enough," she breathed, wiping her forehead. Without her knowing it, she'd apparently perspired during Spots little 'what if' speech. "This is gonna be a hard road foh us, ain't it?"

"Well, yea...we're newsies...everything we do is hard." Dammit, he was so arrogant sometimes, but it was one of the things that had awoken Maddy's attraction for him in the first place. He always acted as if nothing could touch him. She had to keep in mind that, now she'd seen this little display of...what was it? Affection, maybe...caring, definitely...whatever it was, she'd always have to remember that much of that arrogance was an act.

"Dammit...what uh, what time is it?"

"Probably time foh me ta go round up the boys and take a trip across town," Spot answered, looking over her head at the lodging house. Sure enough, he could see a couple of the boys now, looking around the lodging house, their arms up in signal to wave him over. He looked back down at Maddy. "Show time."

"Show time," she nodded, cracking a smile. Truth be told, she was still angry that she wasn't going, but she understood Spots reasoning. He needed his head in the game, not on her or anything else that might be bothering him. "Well uh...I guess 'be careful' is in o'dah..." she shrugged, "and uh...I dunno what else ta say!" She laughed a little, crossing her arms and shrugging.

"Hey Spot! It's past nine, we bettah move it if we wanna be theah before Bronx!"

Brooklyn's leader raised a hand, signaling that he'd heard and understood. "Hold down the fort while I'm gone?" He waggled his eyebrows slightly. "Yea, I'll hold down the fort while ya gone..." she swept her arms forward in a shooing motion. "Go on...get outta heah. Go tell Bronx ta lay off us, eh?"

"Easier said then done," Spot answered, walking backwards as she continued to shoo him off the dock. "If we ain't back by one in the mornin' send someone ta get Manhattan. We're supposed ta be meetin just over the bridge at dat new dinah dat opened up...Nickle Food Dinah I think it's colled."

"I do dat...hell, I might just send foh them ta have a party while ya gone. Get Jack and Racetrack ovah heah, Crutchy too, and dat David's rather cute with that curly hair and bookworm way'a his..." she grinned, watching Conlon nearly stumble over his feet in shock. "Ya bettah be jokin' about dat..." His only answer was a shrug. "Women..."

"Would you get outta' heah!"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'..."

Spot turned and walked away, his normal arrogant swagger coming back to his step as he caught up with Shakey and the rest of the boys. A few minutes later, and they were headed out, past the walk way to the docks and up the hill. Maddy watched until she could see them no more, then, went back out to the perch that she'd been sitting at before Spot had come out onto the dock. Another gust of wind came off the water, blowing her hair loose from underneath her collared shirt and she hastily brushed it out of the way. Another gust of wind, and then Maddy heard it; the rumble of an impending storm. As she looked up, lightning flashed across the sky, and for a moment, Maddy had the fleeting sense this wasn't the only storm that she would be weathering that night. Soon after the next couple rolls of thunder and strikes of lightning, the rain came, light at first, and then heavy, a down poor the likes of which Maddy had never seen. As she raced off the dock and back into the safety of the lodging house, she gave one more fleeting glance at the path that Spot and the other boys had taken towards the meeting area.

"You weathah dat storm, guys...I'll weathah dis one..."


	2. Let Slip the Dogs of War

1"Aw, come off it, Sprint!"

"It was a fair game, Lefty!"

"No it wont!"

"Sure it was!"

"You had five aces, ya jackass!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Maddy cut her arms between the two bickering newsies, putting a cease-fire in place for the moment. "Ya both lost, what's the big deal?"

"Wadda'ya mean, we _both_ lost? I don't see no-body else on dis floor wit a bettah hand then me," Lefty's arm swept over the floor, calling out all the hands that were spread before them. "Then ya must not'a been lookin' hard enough, cause it looks like ta me, I gots a straight," the girl smirked, pointing down to her hand, "and you got a pair a two's."

"Okay, okay, so dat takes care'a him...why do I lose?" Sprint asked. Maddy rolled her eyes.

"Cause ya had five aces, possibly?"

Chuckels ran rampent across the room, and Sprint was left standing like an idiot in the middle of the lodging house.

"Ya wanna' notha hand, then?" someone asked. Cards were already being shuffled. "Nah," Maddy answered as she lit a ciggarette, reaching into the pot to take her winnings, "I ain't gonna tempt fate. Howevah, I'll be more than willin' ta watch you all tempt it all yous' want." Casually, she glanced at a watch near by. 9:45. The boys would probably just be getting to the diner at the point. Which was good, because all the sooner, they would be back home, and another party would be taking place. A burst of light caused her and some of the other newsies to look out one of the windows of the lodging house. There was no doubt that the storm had definitely arrived; they could hear the swell of the bay as the wind assulted it ruthlessly. The rain pounded on the scrapy roof, and thunder continued to billow through the area, surely waking everyone who had been hoping to drop off to a nice nights rest.

"Oooooh, beat dat, guys," Sprints voice jarred Maddy's attention and she turned back again to the game. It looked like it was getting pretty good. Out of curiosity, she counted the number of aces on the floor.

"Sprint..."

**Nickle Food Diner**

"I dunno, Spot," Spots second, Shooter, glanced at his time piece. "It's five minutes ta ten, and they still ain't shown up."

"Any of the scouts see anything?"

Shooter shook his head no. Ever present by his side, Spots cane was resting comfortably against it's owner. "We give it five more minutes. If dey don't show by then, we leave."

And the minutes ticked by. Soon, it was 9:56, then the two minute warning sounded, and when the time was finally up, Bronx was still no where to be seen. "Man, I don't get it," came a voice. "Yea, what gives? Ya'd figuah that Brock would show up ta a meetin' dat he arranged." While the chattering increased, Spots mood decreased. Something wasn't right here, not right at all. The gears and wheels that he was famous for turned in his head, trying to find a sound solution to this most bizarre event.

"Man, we left Brooklyn fa dis? I swear, next time I see any'a the Bronx boys, I'm'a soak em' so hard, they'ah not gonna wanna get up!" A chorus of agreements sounded in the diner. The Brooklyn leader narrowed his eyebrows in thought.

He suddenly stood up so quickly that a couple of his boys were in defense posture by the time he looked at them. "We left Brooklyn," he muttered, already heading for the door, "Shootah what's a serious meeting between two leadah's of new buroughs like?" He slammed open the door, his four tops tripping over their feet to keep up.

"Well ya...ya meet in a dinah or somethin' like that...or at either ones turf...ya bring ya tops and a couple'a othah boys-"

"Exactly," Spot could most assuredly beat himself for his blunder, "ya get the leader, his tops, and a couple'a more boys out ta the meetin'..._away_ from their territory. We been tricked..."

**Brooklyn Lodging House**

"Ya out, Sprint."

"Aw, come one Maddy, I was just havin' a little fun!"

"Yea, and havin' a little'a theah money while ya at it..." her blonde head shook vehemently. "Ya don't play by the rules, then ya don't play"

"Ya no fun, ya know dat, Mads?"

"So they tell me...an' don't call me dat-" she frowned, hearing a rather large banging. "Damn...thought the storm had moved out by now." No one had heard any thunder or seen any lighting for about five minutes. A pretty good sign that the doom was gone. None the less, there it was again. That same loud banging. She looked around. Brooklyn was to big to do a head count, but she hadn't remembered seeing anybody go up stairs.

And then, there was another noise, a loud one, but not a banging sound. This sounded like the crashing of glass, and a quick 180 confirmed Maddy's and anybody elses suspicions. A window had been broken in. Brooklyn was on their feet now. The cards had been dropped to the floor, the cigars put out, the drinks left to air out on there own.

"What gives? It's a bit early for Halloween, ain't it?" Snickers and laughs came from different points of the room, but none of it betrayed the sense of heightened alert that they now all felt. And it all happened so quickly that not one person in the room had the chance to shout a warning.

They came from everywhere; the broken window, the main door, the upstairs, and even through the back. Legion among legion of boys, some brandished with brass knuckles, others using only their fists, but from the look of the boys, that was all they needed. Without thinking, Maddy grabbed the thing closest to her, a chair, and threw it at the nearest Bronx kid that she could. What the hell were they doing here? They were supposed to be meeting with Spot!

"Ten ta one dat Spot's been had!" Lefty called out, and a cry of agreement was heard. For a few more minutes, no one was safe. Brawls were breaking out all over the floor, chairs, bottles, newspapers, and even a table were being thrown back and fourth. While some of the boys had decided to corner each other, many of the fights were one on one, and every bloody nose or face that Maddy happened to glimpse as she kept her fists up was a Brooklyn one. There was a reason why Bronx wore those brass knuckles, and this was it. Although, there seemed to be a lot more than Bronx here, and it soon became apparent why; their longtime ally, Queens, had also decided to get into the foray. A'course...there's a reason why they named those newsies Queens Maddy thought in disgust. Brooklyn needed help. Badly. She called to the nearest newsie to her, which happened to be Lefty.

"Get outt'a heah and go get Manhattan!"

"They won't get heah in time!"

"An' ya think you stayin' is gonna help us any? Get outta' heah, go get 'em! The quickah they know about what's goin' on, the fastah we can figuah out'a way ta get out'a dis mess-ow!" someone had managed to knock a rather solid punch to her jaw. As she went down, she saw Lefty push a guy down and scamper away. She never knew if he made it to the door, but she didn't see anyone go after him. She hoped against hope that he some how managed to get away from the carnage that was taking place.

Maddy didn't have much time to think about the matter though. She found herself being dragged to her feet and hustled, rather roughly over to where a small, yet growing number of Brooklynites were standing, all of them looking severely put out or in pain. She gave them all a once over, asking those that were close to her if they were alright. A few nods or grimances were her only answer, but for the meantime, it seemed like that was all she was going to get.

"Well! Nice ta see that ya oll turned out fa the party!" Every eye in the lodging house went to the voice that spoke. It wasn't like they needed to see who it was to know who it was. They knew all to well that Brock had to be grinning from ear to ear at this moment, for he had done what no other person in New York had ever been able to do before; he'd taken Brooklyn, and right out from Spot Conlon's nose.

"Looks like ya got started without us, though..." the big, burly newsie strutted forward, surveying the damage that the fight had caused, along with the broken bottles of alcohol, trampled over cigarette butts, and now useless cards. "How rude." A couple of his boys laughed. Maddy was happy that they at least found the situation funny.

She found it down right unbearable.

"So this is Brooklyn, eh? I gotta say, afta years of wantin' this territory, I am displeased with the lack of life heah...thought you Brooklyn boys would fight ta the death ta protect ya home..." he shrugged, "least, that's what everybody kept telling me. I foh one am glad to see dat those rumors were false."

"S'kinda hard to fight when ya bring two buroughs against half'a one, don'tca think?" Maddy said aloud. She didn't care if Brock smacked her, kicked her, or punched her. Hell, at the moment, she didn't care if he pulled out a blade and gutted her right then and there on the floor. She just wanted him to shut-up.

Brock did none of those things, though. He simply glanced in her direction, his smile growing even broader. "Excuses? From'ah Brooklyn newsie? Tsk, tsk, goilie...looks like dat rumah 'bout Brooklyn newsies havin' pride was wrong too."

"Eh, we gots pride," someone else said, "we ain't gotta bring an army ta kick ya ass. We do it fair n' square."

"Well, the way I'se see's it, is dat you ain't got an army, so if what ya say is true, Bronx n' Queens shoulda been long gone by now." Brock grabbed a chair and set it down in front of the captured group of newsies. "But we ain't. We's right heah, and we's gonna stay right heah."

"Ovah my dead body," Maddy muttered.

"Theah's a big space'a watah outside and a not to nice storm ta go with it...I can make that wish come true, goil." He abruptly stood up and walked right up to the newsboys. "But, I'd ratha not...messy, too much trouble, an' I'd rathah enjoy my victory over Conlon dan screw it up by havin' ta get my hands wet."

"An' how exactly do ya plan ta do dat?" Sprint asked.

"I'm gonna give you oll a choice," The Bronx leader walked the line of newsies, "ya can eitha come on ovah ta the winnin' side'a the team...namely me, or," he turned and walked down the line again, "you can cling ta ya Brooklyn pride an' ya non-exsistant leadah, Conlon, an' still be kept heah...under out protection, a course, but woikin' foh us." He clapped his hands together. "So, what's it gonna be? Freedom ta do what ya want, as ya've always done...or locked up in da lodging house's most dingy area's, free ta do nothin' but we tell ya's ta do?" His hands went up and down, as though he were helping them to way the options.

"Any one'a ya's even thinks about toinin' sides, I will personally kick ya ass ovah da Brooklyn bridge," Maddy immediately said, turning around to make sure that everyone knew she was serious. There were a very few things in life that the girl couldn't tolerate, and betrayal was at the top of the list.

"Eh, none'a dat," Brock said menacingly, "thought you'se guys were about freedom'a choice. I'm givin' dem a choice an' dey are free ta make it."

"I'm wit Maddy," Sprint announced, and he could see a few of the others nodding their heads, "besides, once Spot finds out, it won't be long till him an' Manhattan come down heah lookin' foh you's...honestly, Brock, I'd say split while ya can."

"I'll deal wit dat, if I have to, but that's so far down the road that I couldn't care less right now." He turned away from Brooklyn and walked about five feet away. "If ya with me, come on ovah. I'll make sure dat the big, bad Brooklyn newsies don't get ta ya." It was a stalemate. No one moved, or dared breath for that matter.

"Theah we go," Brock suddenly said. Both Maddy and Sprint looked at each other, wondering what he meant. It wasn't too long before two Brooklyn newsies were seen standing beside Brock, uneasy looks on their faces, but standing by him none the less, "just two? Come on, if theah's two, theah's gotta be two more. How many a' you's are tired of Conlons arrogance, tired of his way of leadin'? He's made the newsies look weak! An' den he go's back an' he says dat

'it's all part'a his plan'. Spot ain't got no plan! He's a little boy tryin' ta live in a mans woild! You guys wanna a real leadah, ya wanna be real men? It's time ta graduate ta the Bronx. Look at my boys, eh? Well fed, well muscled. Don't nobody mess with Bronx, theah's a reason for it! An' all'a you's can get dat same respect. All ya gotta do, is step up ta the plate." He presented the floor with his hands, his eyes taking in every face in front of him. And gradually, three more boys came to the front, none of them looking back. Maddy wasn't surprised to see Gunner amongst the five; he'd just gotten to Brooklyn, and Spot had taken him in, showed him the ropes of what it was to be a Brooklyn Newsie.

"Glad ta see theah are some smart ones in heah, ta night," Brock shooed the boys off to his buddies, who promptly welcomed them with spit shakes and claps on the back. "As foh the rest'a you's, we'll see what time does ta change ya minds."

"Not much, I can tell ya," Maddy answered. Sprint nodded beside her. Brock stayed still for a moment, then, casually walked over to the girl. For her part, Maddy stood her ground. She was frightened, but was by no means a coward. "Ya know, goil...dis is gonna be a good lesson foh you. Ya gonna lo'en how ta stop actin' like a newsie, an' start actin' like a goil. So let's give you ya foist lesson right heah." He promptly backhanded her, the impact throwing Maddy into Sprint, who steadied her. The boys around them made moves to jump Brock, but they were quickly reminded that that wouldn't be the wisest choice at the moment. "Lesson numbah one," Brock announced, walking away from the group, "goil's don't talk unless they are talked to."

**Brooklyn Bridge**

Lefty didn't know how long he'd been running, but he didn't bother to search in his pants for his pocket watch to find out. He'd been told to get to Manhattan as fast as he could, but he was just now coming up on the Brooklyn Bridge, the figure head of Brooklyn's power. As he kept running, he began to hear foot steps pounding in the pavement. Did Brock find out that he'd gotten away? Had he sent people to track him down and bring him back? The thought terrified Lefty, and he poured on even more speed, racing up the beginning of the hill that would lead him to the other side, and Manhattan territory.

"Hey, who's dat?"

"Do I look like a cat, I can't see in the dark!"

"I think it's Lefty...damn, he's runnin' fast!"

"Wouldn't you be if Bronx was sittin' in ya livin' room right now?"

"A'right, all'a ya's shut up!" Spot yelled, slowing down and watching Lefty hurtle towards them. "Lefty! Lefty, it's a'right, it's me, Spot..." Thankfully, Lefty began to slow down and was soon doubled over, breathing in air like he couldn't get enough.

"Lefty, what's goin' on, huh?" In normal circumstances, Spot would have let the boy catch his breath first, but these were anything but normal circumstances. He hoped to whatever diety there was above that he was just over reacting and that Bronx simply didn't show up just to play a joke on Spot.

But if that were the case, then why would Lefty be running like a mad man on the Brooklyn bridge?

"Bronx..."

"Ah, shit," Spot muttered.

"And Queens...they all at the docks...all of 'ems fightin'."

"Bronx _and_ Queens?" Shooter repeated. Lefty nodded. "Yea. We was fightin' an' Maddy told me ta go an' get Manhattan. Ta bring 'em back an' help...I ran into you guys instead." He stood up, still breathing hard, but managing to say cohearant sentences now.

"Well, fo'get Manhattan, we'ah heah," one of the boys said, "let's go back theah an' make su'ah they don't come back!" A chorus of cheers followed, but Spot held his hands up. "Are all ya's crazy? Ain't you just heah what he said? We go theah now, an' we ain't gonna be no help ta Brooklyn." He rubbed his forehead, then turned back to Lefty. "Did Brock say anything, Lefty? Ya hear anything, like what he might do with me boys?"

Lefty shook his head. "She told me ta leave right before she got clocked in the jaw. I managed ta get out, but I din' see Brock at all."

Spot blinked. He certainly hoped that whatever asshole hit his girl had got what was comin' ta him. Maddy didn't look like she could hit hard, but Spot knew first hand that the chick could pack a wallup when she wanted to.

He put his thumb and fore-finger on the bridge of his nose, squeezing it slightly. How could he have been so stupid? Now his boys were probably sitting in that house, cramped all together, not knowing when they would sell again because Bronx and Queens were prancing around the docks, living up their victory.

"We'ah goin' ta Manhattan, boys." He turned around, noticing that some of his newsies looked a little dumbfounded. They wanted to fight now, get Bronx out of their home. "I said, 'we'ah goin' ta Manhattan, boys'" He jerked his chin in the direction of their ally. "Let's go."

Usually, the walk to Manhattan from Brooklyn took a good hour to complete. Tonight, the boys were there in a half hour, taking all the short cuts and alley ways that they could. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line, and with the Brooklyn boys knowing the alley ways of Manhattan as well as they did, their path was almost that.

So, it was quite a shock to Bumlets, who had the watch that night, to see Conlon and 15 of his boys show up at the door to the Manhattan lodging house. "Pst. Hey, Conlon, what gives?" The shorter newsie came out of his hiding Spot, confronting Brooklyn. But there was a look on Spots face that Bumlets had never seen before, and he immediately knew that something had gone wrong.

"I'll get 'em," was all he said, before disappeared into the house. Not one minute later, a yawning and very tired Jack Kelly, along with Race, David, Specs, and Kid Blink were standing out in the middle of the distribution yard in their long Johns, listening to a very detailed account of the surprise attack on Brooklyn.

"Well, Christ," was all Jack could say when the story was finished, "do those bums wanna die tanight, or what?"

"That was the general conscensus as we was walkin' ovah heah, Jacky Boy," Spot answered, twirling his cane, which had been hooked in a belt loop up until that point. "Well, we can't do anything about it tonight," David said. "Whadd'ya mean, we can't do anything about it tanight?" Spot asked, clearly infuriated that this situation was not being dealt with as soon as possible.

"Think about it, Spot," said David, "Brock just now got your territory. You think that he's gonna stop there? He'll be expecting you to turn up again as soon as possible. He had this planned, long before that messanger gave you the notice for the meeting. He's wanted Brooklyn ever sense he got Bronx, and he's going to do everything that he can to keep it."

"Hey, Davids right, Spot," Racetrack added, "I mean, if we wanna get Brooklyn back wit'out oll

a us dyin' we gotta use ou'ah heads on dis one."

"And what exactly do you suggest, Racetrack?" Spot asked, his blue eyes flashing dangerously in the lamp light. His kingdom was taken, and he didn't exactly relish the fact that he had to wait to take it back. Unfortunately, Race had no answer for Spot, and simply bit on the end of a cigar that he'd managed to snag during the days selling.

"Well, I know what I suggest," Jack spoke up, "I suggest we all get inside and start talkin' about what ta do about dis. It won't be long befoah Brock starts ta grab up all the territories around heah. I dunno bout you guys, but I ain't about ta let that happen."

"Funny, I said da same thing 'bout Brooklyn."

**The Next Morning: Brooklyn**

While Sprint and a couple of other boys paced the floor of the second story loft of the lodging house, Maddy sat against a wall, her hands clasped together along with her head resting against the hard paneling. It had been exactly nine hours sense Brooklyns occupation, and, truth be told, it wasn't looking good for anyone that had decided to remain loyal to Spot Conlon.

It had been a long night for everyone involved. Between reassuring the younger kids that everything would be okay, trying to figure out ways to escape from Bronx, and listening to the party that was going on downstairs, no one had gotten any sleep the previous night. They were all tired, short tempered, and for the first time, more than a little nervous that Brooklyn was out of their grasp for the rest of their days.

"How we doin' Maddy?"

She looked up at Sprint, and saw the bitterness in his eyes. She shook her head. "Not good. The youngah kids can't sleep, their scared…the oldah ones don't know what ta do…but in the long run, we've still got a chance."

"Oh?" Sprint slid down the wall beside her and she nodded in response.

"Spot's not heah. If he ain't heah, then that means that Brock doesn't have him yet. Which means that he's more than likely found out what happened, and is wit' Manhattan right now, tryin' ta figuah out a way ta get us outta dis mess."

"Hmmm…" Sprint rested his chin upon his fist and thought. "Whatt'ya think theah gonna do?"

Maddy shrugged. "Spot an' Jacks minds are always woikin'," she chuckled, "ya nevah know what theah gonna do next. An' right now, that's the best thing we got." She finished just as the door opened. In walked Brock, along with three or four of his boys. "Looks like we got company," Sprint mused, sizing Brock up. He looked like he had just been crowned king of the world. In a way, he had.

"Who feels like sellin' papes taday?" he asked, looking around. The younger kids cowered from him, choosing to hide behind the older ones that they knew would protect them. In turn, the older ones stepped up to the plate, folding their arms and giving the hated enemy hard looks. "Oh, now, don't be like that. I'm giving you the chance ta sell in ya own territory again."

"With how many of ya boys watchin' us?" Sprint asked.

"Well, ya like little kids ta me now," Brock explained, "it would be irresponsible'a me ta let ya out inta da woild without the appropriate supervision."

"Well then, like the little kids ya say we are, weah just gonna have ta be difficult an' say no," Maddy answered, her face the picture of her finality. She wasn't going to sell that day, nor any other day under Brocks rule. She'd starve herself to death first. "You wouldn't be sellin' anyways, sweethaht," a couple of the boys behind him laughed. She raised her eyebrows. "I hope ya don't expect me ta do anything else around heah."

"Oh, I'm gonna give ya a couple more lessons taday," Brock teased, "da foist of which, will be cleanin this entire place from top ta bottom. Can't have my new home lookin' all trashed."

"Heh, ya made the mess ya'self when ya decided ta attack us. Ya want it clean? Clean it ya'self"

"Oh Maddy…am I gonna have ta go ta drastic measurah's ta convince ya?" When she didn't answer, Brock smiled. "Okay. Due ta ya female friends attitude heah, unless she agrees ta clean dis place, none'a ya will sell, which means none'a ya will have money ta buy food…an' dat goes foah da youngah ones as well." He raised his eyebrows, looking back down at the girl. "Ya think ya can have it on ya conscience when that six yeah old ovah theah comes up ta ya and tells ya he's hungry?"

Maddy bit her lip, looking down at the floor. It was an unspoken rule amongst all the Brooklyn newsies; take care of your own, especially the younger ones that couldn't take care of themselves. Maddy took that job very seriously. Brock was right; she wouldn't be able to deal if the younger kids at least didn't have anything to eat. It wasn't their fault they were in this mess. They'd started out just like she did; an orphan. It was the older kids that knew what they were getting into all the time. She looked at Sprint, who was still sitting beside her. He looked back at her. "If it were just us oldah ones, I'd say fuck it, but…" he shook his head and looked away.

That said…or not said, Maddy gathered her strength and stood up, looking Brock in the eye. "Fine." She walked past him, and out the door, her feet heard as she walked down the stairs. Brock smiled. This was great. "The rest a ya, you'll be free ta sell in shifts. Two houahs foh each newsie. Ten'a ya a shift. That's fair, right?" With a snap of his fingers, the first ten newsies were rounded up and led out the door, Brock following behind. When the door closed, Sprint leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Spot…dunno wheah ya are, but ya need ta be heah quick."

**Manhattan, the same morning**

It had been a long night for Spot. Those that were already awake were racking their brains, and those that had been sleeping were quickly roused from the dreams only to hear that the threat from Bronx had been magnified ten fold. Jaws dropped and eyes bugged out when the situation was explained. Now, the sun was rising over the Manhattan skyline and over the newsies who hadn't slept but a little.

"Well, it's obvious that the other boroughs won't stand for this," David was saying. He stood in the middle of a window, the light shinning down on him.

"Yea, dey will," Spot retorted, standing up and hooking his thumbs in his suspender straps. Davids face changed from one of contemplation to one of confusion. "Think about it, Mouth," Spot explained, "Brock just did somethin' dat no one else has been able ta do. He took out Brooklyn. Ya think dat the othah boroughs are gonna wanna get in da way a him now?" Spot shook his head, and a murmer of agreement rippled through out the boys. "Spots right. We ain't gettin' any help on this one," Jack put his face in his hands, "we're gonna have ta do this ourselves."

"An' how exactly are we gonna do dat?" Racetrack asked. No one had an answer for that and the lodging house was plunged into silence once again. "Deah's gotta be some way'a gettin' Brooklyn back," Mush exclaimed. "I mean, with us heah, an' most a ya boys still in Brooklyn, if we plan it right, we can do a surprise attack, like dey did on you guys." That comment earned a glare from Spot, and Mush quickly ducked his head. "Well, that's the only way we're going to be able to get Brooklyn back," David said, hoping to alleviate the tension. Another silence followed. After a few minutes, Spot could take no more. "If any'a yous get any bright idea's, I'll be on da roof, countin' da many ways I could kill Brock." With that, Spot was out the window and within seconds could be heard shimmying up the fire escape.

"Was it somethin' I said?" Mush asked after he left. "Naw, he just likes bein' reminded that he was outsmarted," Matches, a Brooklyn newsie answered. "Hey, I ain't seenin' you comin up with any bright ideas," Bumlets shot back.

"A'right, knock it off, all'a ya." Jack broke in before anyone else could get into the argument. "This is exactly what Brock wants, right heah, an' Mush, don't tell me ya wouldn'ta done da same thing. Bumlets, cut the shit an' start thinkin' a ways we can get outta this mudhole." Manhattans leader ran some fingers through his greasy hair. "I'm goin' ta talk ta Spot. Wake up an' get ya brains woikin'. I want something when I jump back tru' dat window, got it?" Jack didn't bother to wait for a reply; he already knew what it would be. Following Spots earlier move, he made his way up the stairs to the roof, and was greeted with Spot sitting on the edge, his feet dangling over the side.

"Thought the idea was ta come up heah and figuah out ways ta kill Brock, no ya'self," Jack walked over to Conlon and stood just behind him. He waited for Spot to say something, but when he didn't, Jack realized that his friend was in a totally different place at the moment. "Look, ah…I know ya gonna do this anyways, so I don't know why I'm sayin', but…don't blame ya'self foh what happened. Like Davey said, Brock probably had this planned foh a while." Spots shoulders hunched slightly lower. Not a good sign.

"We'll get'er back," Jack promised, "mark my woids, Spot, we'll get'er back."

Then, he snickered. "Look at it dis way; Brocks probably getting' hell from all ya boys. Sprint, Flyah, Decks…Hell, Maddy herself is probably givin' Brock a run foh his money." That got a chuckle out of Spot. "Yea, knowin' her…she probably is." He turned around, his back now facing the street and hopped of the ledge, arms crossed in thought.

"Ya worried about her?"

"What?" Conlon stopped, turning to meet Jacks gaze. "Maddy. Ya worried about her." Jack repeated.

"I'm worried about all my newsies, Kelly."

"Yea…but ya thinkin'a her." Spot turned away from Jacks voice without a response. "S'okay if ya thinkin' about her, Spot," Jack reassured, "ya care about her. Dat's normal."

"Yea? Ya thinkin' about Sarah right now?" Spot asked, more than a little defensively. Jack shook his head. "Sarah's not involved in this. And I make su'uh dat it stays that way."

Spot shook his head, not wanting to hear anything about Maddy at the moment. This was exactly what he'd been worried about all along; something happening in Brooklyn, and Spot not being able to function because Maddy would be involved. Jack seemed to know what he was thinking. "Ya know what Maddy would say if she were lookin' at you right now?"

"Kelly, I don't wanna heah it…"

"She'd say 'I know the risks. I take 'em everyday, an' I'm where I am cause I wanna be.' Dat's what she would say. And she's right. She knows what goes along wit' bein' a newsie, wit bein at war wit Bronx…and wit bein' ya goil."

"She ain't my goil, Jackie Boy, an I suggest ya get off a dis line a commentary." Spot warned.

"Ain't ya goil, huh?" Jack didn't appear to be listening. A dangerous thing to do to Conlon, but he was the only one that could get away with it. When it came right down to it, Jack didn't have a problem telling Spot things that he didn't want to hear. He stepped up to Conlon, another daring venture. "Then why ar'ya getting' so defensive?"

"Cause theah's coiten things dat don't need ta be public knowledge, dat's why."

"I'm not sayin' it's wrong, Spot. I'm just tellin' ya what Maddy would say if she were heah. An' ya know I'm right." Both respective leaders stared each other down, each of their tempers running high. It was Jack that finally broke the connection. He might have been second in command of the New York boroughs, but Spot was still Commander in Chief, even now.

"Does Brock know about you two?"

Spot shook his head. "No one knows. We just figuahed it out ourselves." He used every bit of control to calm himself down. "She ain't my goil, Jack."

The other boy gave Spot his trademark grin. "Not yet at least." Spot sighed. "Always da dreamah wit'cho."

"So," Jack clapped his hands, "how many different ways've ya come with ta kill Brock?"

"Last one I had was beatin' 'im with a rock, den ya had ta come out heah." Spot was by no means in a better mood, but Jack could see that the tension had lessened just slightly in the other boys eyes. The real Spot Conlon, the one that newsies would go to for help, the one that no one dared cross, was coming back, slowly but surely.

Suddenly, another head, with a voice to boot, came from the fire escape.

"Guys?" David looked around, spotting both boys. "We got an idea."


End file.
